Bonfire Heart
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: It's the offer to sleep on his side of the bed that does it. And maybe absolutely everything to do with the seashells he kept and framed and hung on the wall. Set after 6x08 and during 5x04.
1. Into the lair

**AN:** Little bit behind with my post epis as you can see ;) There will be four chapters of this posted over the next four/five days. I dedicate it to my girlies, without whom I would be more than a little lost. I'm not quite Charlie, but it's okay because they're not quite angels. Hugs and Happy Castle Monday! x

* * *

"Days like these lead to...

Nights like this lead to

Love like ours.

You light the spark in my bonfire heart."

* * *

It's the offer to sleep on his side of the bed that does it, the blatant sexual overtones that simmer just under the surface of the words and the fact she really would like to get him back into _her territory_ ASAP. And maybe absolutely everything to do with the seashells he kept and framed and hung on the wall.

_Their_ seashells.

She slinks in close, all feline mysticism and working her womanly mojo, to steal a kiss, that tongue curling, lip biting one that makes him weak at the knees and so likely to cave to her demands - _both_ alphas her shiny leather clad ass - only he's got a grip on her fingers and he's all pleased with himself and streaking towards the bed before she can even press herself against him.

She narrows her eyes and trails along after him. No kiss to knock him senseless and get her way and though she pouts a little she laughs too, not really minding, his determined stride and predatory smile lead her to believe there may have been some planning going on with all the space defining and lair talk.

Kate lets him drag her towards the bed and gives in - with barely any resistance - to the hot growl that vibrates across the back of her neck. It elicits a full body shiver, his hot breath hitting that space between shoulder and ear that makes her quiver and squirm deliciously.

She feels the tug of memory and the flicker of candle light in the bedroom casts her back to his house in the Hamptons almost a year ago and Kate begins ditching items of clothing as he does the same on the other side of the bed.

When she's in nothing but her underwear he freezes, shirt sleeves falling from his arms into a muted grey puddle on the floor and he holds her eyes for the longest second. Her breath catches when he stills - shirtless - eyes her head to toe and stalks the distance between them.

Every footfall feels like an inch and a mile all at once. The closer he comes the further away he feels and the nearer she wants him.

Castle steps towards her, claims the curve of her waist and long slender line of her neck with the width of his palms. His fingers dance through her hair, tug and close over the strands as he pulls her into him.

Their lips graze in a feather light touch and Kate lifts to her toes, misses his mouth when his kiss lands on her cheek instead. A little hitch of movement to her hips throws her back in time again and the way his eyes flicker tell her he knows.

Castle knows all too well.

He smirks and pounces and lifts her feet from the floor.

She doesn't squeal, doesn't make an horrendously damsel in distress sounding noise when he launches her onto the bed, making her gasp, and she most definitely doesn't shudder head to toe when Castle follows her a second later, with a flash of his eyes - and teeth - and a deep seductive rumble of a growl echoing through his chest.

Her fingers tangle in dark linen sheets, white knuckles aching and her legs dropping apart in open and blatant invitation. Her heart pounds and her teeth meet at the edge of her lip, watching him.

He crawls slowly, hands and knees to the bed and the closer he gets the faster her chest flutters, breath nothing but a wisp across her tongue. He crawls, eyes on her all the while until he hovers over her, hands planting themselves each side of her body, staring down.

The warmth that radiates from him raises goosebumps over her skin and his body - muscular, hard lines, soft skin, the way he crowds her on the bed - all of it, a slow, long, drawn out undulation that ripples over hers with hot, searing rhythm until she's plastered beneath him, reaching for him and curling an ankle at the back of his thigh to pull him closer.

She doesn't laugh when his mouth opens hot and wet just below her ear and he whispers her name - before meowing.

But then she does, she does do all of those things. The girly and the silly and giggly things that leave her breathless when the scorching heat of his chest smooths over the flat lines of her stomach and their bellies meet - flesh to flesh - in fact it's all she can do to keep her eyes open.

Why should she? There's no reason other than the added pleasure of watching him. But he touches so gently, then harder harder, finds her thighs with deft and knowing fingers, traces, teases, tastes the line of her lips with the tip of his tongue and she can hold her eyes open no longer.

So she doesn't.

But she does give in.

Castle clicks his tongue as he peels her out of her clothes, making little purrs and growls and grunting sounds at the back of his throat that she grins at, laughs at, copies, gets seduced by, until the simple act of him running his nose along her jawline, inhaling and kissing his way to her lips, has her arching up from the bed and whispering for more.

After that it's one long, animalistic ride of pleasure until she's forgotten all about the stupid lion and she can barely even remember her own name.

* * *

She rolls with him, panting and still on his side of the bed, a sated hum vibrating through her chest chased by a giggle that tangles at the back of her throat, tickling its way free. Her fingers dance in the sweat drenched skin of his chest, nails raking, leaving claw marks over his heart and down across his stomach to match the ones burning brightly on his back.

They curl into each other, bookends of peace, sedation and tranquility. The Alpha and Omega - the beginning and the end - and the everything of their story unraveling beautifully in between them.

"Seashells." She mumbles almost too quietly for him to hear over the pounding of his own blood in his ears. His eyes remain closed but he smiles when he feels her fingers trace over his face, touch at his cheeks lightly. Then she's turning his head towards her and muttering his name in annoyance as if she suspects he's fallen asleep.

"Mmmmm." Castle grins, finds a strand of her hair and twists it around his finger.

"Why?" She asks, because when she said he didn't have to do it - that beautiful gesture with shells and small pieces of their history collected together and displayed proudly in his home - she meant it.

"Why wh- ?" He blinks one eye open and falls silent at the look on her face. His brain is still a bit muddled, thoughts still disjointed segments of carnal delight. His body sticky and fused to hers.

Her lips are open against his chest and every breath tickles out over him, hot and heavy with the approach of sleep - it's lovely but very distracting. Castle fights to hold on to the train of thought that Kate started as he looks down at her.

Her eyes are warm, as liquid and gentle as her thoroughly relaxed body and he follows her gaze, the weighted flutter of her eyelids, as she blinks off into the distance. He's not sure where she goes but he wants to go with her.

Castle twists, pulling her with him, lifting his chin from the top of her head, his palm spread wide as he holds her, fingers swirling in the damp strands of her hair where they fall limply at her back. He stares with her, content with her pace and and the steady droop of his eyelids.

"You kept them." She says finally, the flat of her palm laying out over his heart as she pushes herself up a bit, to find his eyes. "The shells." Her fingers are hot pinpricks of sensation as they tap out over his face, thumb sliding heatedly against his lower lip. "Why?"

"We were -"

"New?"

"Learning each other." He counters. "You were -"

"Wary." She admits. Her heart had been his for a while but trusting him not to shatter it into a million pieces had taken her longer than she'd care to admit.

He nods knowingly, fingers squeezing lightly. "And I was -"

"Still trying to prove yourself." She scrunches up at the memory, fingers tracing the beat of his heart and hating that he felt he had to - that she made him think it was necessary.

"Showing off."

Kate laughs, eyes widening as she mocks him, "Never!"

"A bit."

"Mmm you and your big ... house." She laughs again, fingers sliding down low, teasing skin that should be too sleepy to react. Yet it does.

"Not that." He hums, sighs, catching her wrist and sliding his fingers between hers, skimming her elbow and trailing her arm to capture her hand. "I wanted you to enjoy yourself there."

"I did."

"Because it's true." He says quietly, ignoring her and twisting, fingers drifting, finding her chin and tilting her face up towards him. "It was always true, Kate." He rolls again, rolls until he's staring down at her, stroking skin that still tingles, still sparks and crackles like fire. "Every memory we made that day, every second we spent together." He smiles, when she grins, when he watches it all come to life in her heart and mind as much as it is in his.

Her hands wind about to pull him closer, legs wrapping around him to trap him to her, "Before the dead guy in the pool." the trace of a tease licking out at words, chasing them from her lips.

"Even after." He kisses her cheek, her ear, holds her eyes in the blue haze of his own, "It made it clear to me what I'd been missing every other time I'd been there." His nose nudges hers, soft strokes and demanding touches melding into one beautiful melody of movement.

"You." He breathes out, just like the first time, the first realization.

She kisses him, slowly and with surety, her head and heart filling up with the words that started it all that day.

_None of them were you._


	2. The Hamptons part 1

_"None of them were you." _

He hums, watching her face for any sign that the words have taken root, and maybe it's not exactly what he would like to be telling her, maybe it's not even what she would like to be hearing but he smiles, hoping it's enough.

Kate smiles back, squeezes his hand and mumbles so quietly it's almost lost in the brisk air and crash of the tide in the distance, "You want to, um, go check out that pool?" She leans away from him, her body falling in the opposite direction so that he has to tug her back to his side and he likes that, it feels symbolic, like perhaps his words have just done the same thing.

Those five little words maybe holding more weight than the three he wants to yell at her, whisper to her, lave over her skin.

"Yeah?" Kate laughs at the sharp pull of his fingers when he drags her closer. She wants to lean in close and kiss him slowly for knowing exactly what to say. She giggles again when he walks off fast, making her take long strides with those beautifully powerful legs just to keep up with him before she can change her mind.

As if she knows exactly what he's thinking Kate drops his hand and links her arm through his elbow, finding his fingers again almost immediately. A clear and silent gesture telling them both she's not going anywhere.

* * *

They walk along a well worn path that winds around the house to the swimming pool at the back. Sand and dirt and spring grass getting crushed under their feet and the scent of the ocean drifting around them. Castle opens a white wooden gate and she grins at him when he extends his arm, ushering her ahead of him, caught up in the _white picket fence_ of it all.

He's sweet, she thinks, and kind. Far more traditional than she would have guessed, but the more she gets to know him, the more she spends time with him like this - alone, case-less, in quiet comfort and homely surroundings - the more she notices it. He's a family man who cares and he's sweet.

On her. He's sweet on_ her_.

Sunlight makes her squint and Kate ducks her head, hides the tinge of red to her cheeks at the thought and takes the wine glass from Castle's hands so he can close the gate behind him. Smiling at him she steps ahead, taking in her surroundings as she does.

He has spectacular taste, there's no denying it, and Kate lets out a low hum of approval at the sight of the fireplace directly opposite the pool. Huge and surrounded by ornate brickwork it calls out to her like nothing else here has.

He stops at her back, runs his fingers over the warm skin of her arm and strokes over her elbow, waiting until she turns to face him. He catches a brief glimpse of the images in her mind - wet skin and hot flames, being wrapped up together in the cool of the evening, the ocean breeze rolling in - and Castle smiles.

The corner of his lip lifts, just enough to grab her attention, just enough to have her staring at his mouth and getting lost in the memory of the things he does with it, can do with it, will be doing all weekend, and his eyes flick towards the fireplace at the same moment Kate's do too.

She swallows, heart up somewhere near her throat and hammering for freedom, and licks the line of her lips watching him do the same.

Kate hands him back his wine, lets her fingers linger with his and raises her eyebrows in silent salute at the beauty surrounding her. Bonfires and amber logs burning in her eyes at the prospect of the night stretching out before them.

"You like it?" He smiles, and she catches the waiver of uncertainty that flickers in his pupils, wonders if maybe she's not alone in feeling like this weekend holds a lot of significance for their blossoming relationship.

"I do." Kate presses into his side and shields her face from the sun and him as she smirks, "It looks cosy."

Her fingers trip over his skin and curve around his back in a movement far from innocent, sinking her hand into his back pocket as she laughs.

Castle laughs too, catches at the lightness that accompanies her smile and revels in it. "It looks _cosy_?" He tilts his body around hers, aims to set their drinks aside and ducks to see her face, "You like fires, huh?"

"Mmm." She sips the wine quickly before she gives up the glass, shivers as the rich red liquid slides down her throat and shrugs to disguise it, "I might."

Kate levels him with a look, something daring in her eyes that just begs for retaliation.

"We'll light it _later_." He promises, anything to see her smiling like that, soft smoldering glances, content and loose. His fingers find their way into her hair and he kisses her, feels the shiver she tried so hard to hide race out over her skin at the tangle and tug of his palm at the nape of her neck.

_Later_ surges hotly in her blood._ Now_ makes itself known and stampedes to the forefront, takes control.

She makes a noise, sharp, intent, and it draws Castle in closer. The hot, sweet taste of her mouth holds him there for a while, urging her lips further apart and he can't help but touch his tongue to hers in a soft greeting that makes her hands skim his chest. They roam upwards, make his stomach muscles clench and quiver until she's gripping his shirt and keeping him there just as much as he's doing the same.

A spark of something delicious ignites within him and races out, a long low, licking flame that catches fire slowly, seeking her out to burn across her skin until she's clinging to him tighter, more fiercely.

She pulls back with the flicker of that flame still dancing in her pupils and her breath frantic bursts that spill across his lips.

"That was - what was _that_?" He asks on a huffed breath and slightly frantic laugh, dipping his forehead down to touch hers.

"Vacation." Her eyes stay closed and hot breath touches his mouth, makes his lips part involuntarily, craving more. Her tone is melted caramel, hot, sticky and sweet as she caresses the word, delights in it. _Vacation_.

"I like you on vacation." He earns a laugh as reward, watches the glaze of her eyes slowly fade out into something warm, willing and _waiting_.

Waiting for what he's not sure, but Castle wonders if he should give in to the urge to have her by the pool. Here and now.

Knock aside the glass so that it smashes on the floor and lift Kate from her feet, lay her out over the table and devour her. Or throw cushions to the ground and spread themselves before the fire.

He wants to surge into her with the spark of timber in her eyes and the chill of the air raising her flesh before he tastes it.

The fantasy comes to life in his mind, and her eyes catch his, holding on tight as she reads him like an open book. Her lips flush, full and ripe for more kisses, her cheeks bright spots of red and Kate swallows thickly.

Her mouth opens but no sound comes out. The moment swells and grows without their control, eyes locked and hearts racing.

Kate finds herself staring at the open button of his shirt, the way the material parts to reveal skin. She knows that little patch will be warm, that the tip of her freezing cold nose fits into it perfectly when she snuggles up with him at three in the morning. She knows sinking her teeth into the same stretch of skin will make him growl and _speed up_ when he's arching above her.

"Let's go for a walk." He says suddenly, his eyes on her lips but his arms falling away until she's standing alone once more.

But not for long.

"I'll show you the beach." He offers and Castle lifts his hand, fingers reaching, touching until they tangle with hers.


	3. The Hamptons part 2

He entices her to follow him down towards the shore, though it doesn't take much for her to find herself at his side. They stroll slowly, fingers locked and eyes catching every now and then as they pass the pool that ripples and shimmers invitingly in the cool afternoon breeze.

Kate lets out a noise before she means to, a soft sigh of longing as she watches the movements of the water - wants to let it bob and buoy her along - and Castle turns, twists an arm low around her waist to keep her moving.

"Later." He grumbles, growls at the shell of her ear, promises all at once.

She laughs and reaches for his collar only to have him duck out of her grasp. She sees why when they approach the arch. Castle tugs her fingers behind her, but pushes her ahead of him almost forcing her to pull him along and she laughs as they stumble.

Every step collides or tugs them awkwardly, makes them cling and the soft stroke of his fingers within her hands is tickling, teasing. Beautiful.

Finally she gives up and lets him lead, his slow pace almost hypnotizing and their languid steps threading them through shadow and dappled sunlight, meandering ever closer to the shore.

When he pauses at yet another gate she glances up, one hand still in his and the other shielding her eyes from the sun. Kate finds herself graceless and lost for words at the sight before her, thankful for the time it takes Castle to open the gate and the extra seconds she has to look up.

The wood of the arch is obviously old, but well loved and cared for, splinters of white paint crack here and there but overall there is evidence of a tender hand having taken the time with each intricately woven piece of timber.

The beams above their heads are latticed and speckled rays of late afternoon sun rain down from above in a shower of white and yellow and deep mahogany shadow. It casts glittering flecks of gold over their skin, great shafts of light spilling in every direction.

It's beautiful. Almost mystical, definitely magical and Kate lets herself get lost in watching the tiny particles of dust and sand that dance in the rays before her face, the warmth of the lights that drenches her skin and the golden radiance that surrounds her.

She's in awe of it.

She forgets Castle is by her side until the gentle press of his fingers over the back of her hand brings her attention and focus away from the flirtation of sunlight and back to his face, his presence.

His head is tilted towards her, a soft indulgent look playing over his features so enamoured and in love with her that she finds herself blushing. Warmth suffuses her face, her cheeks hot and as she dips her head down out of his sight his hand rises, fingertips at her jaw to hold her head up.

He wants to see her.

He leans in and kisses her simply. A quick brush of his lips over hers but as her eyes close it's not his face that she sees but another image altogether.

The two of them, together, standing exactly like this, under this beautiful white arch in the summer sun, with the wind in their hair and their lips touching.

Bare feet.

Him in a suit and her wearing white.

Kate touches his face, clings to his fingertips and surges up into Castles arms, a smile playing through the soft caress of lips and tongue. She kisses him for the day they're sharing, for the reassuring words he gives her when she needs them and for the image that flutters in her mind. For his patience and kindness and the delicate, ferocious way he loves her. Inside and out.

She kisses him for letting her love him back. For allowing her the time to do it right.

She kisses him for all the things she wants to tell him, to share with him and the future that lies ahead of them - thanks to him.

* * *

She stops at the edge of the wet sand, feeling the dampness of each grain sticking to her toes and when she casts her eyes over her shoulder Kate can't help but laugh at the sight of Castle trotting towards her, holding her shoes and his own.

"Bare feet?" He calls, "Really?"

"I'm letting loose." She calls back, raising her voice over the crash of the waves, "Like you told me I should, remember?"

"I do." He turns on the spot as if looking for something and shrugs when he can't find it. Without a second thought Castle dumps their shoes unceremoniously into a little heap of leather and laces.

"Hey!" Kate flinches, but smiles when he hurries to her side.

"I remember the letting loose comment, " Castle nods, "I do not remember agreeing to be your personal donkey."

"Donkey?" She laughs, watching as he loses footing in the sand and slips towards her.

He rights himself and strides straight at her, ignoring the laughter that greets him. "Carting your junk around while you paddle in the ocean."

"It's not junk. Those are lea- mm." His fingers slide into her hair and he presses his thumb to her lips to quieten her.

"Beckett?" Castle leans in close and tilts forward, looking down the length of his nose almost as if looking at her over the top of invisible spectacles. He leans closer, closer still until his lips are hovering over the thumb that separates their lips.

"Mmm?" She swallows thickly, feels her heart begin to race.

"Shut up."

Her eyes flutter closed as he kisses her in the sand, taking her off her feet so that she has to step back and with a shocked gasp Kate clings to him, yelping as cold sea water washes over her toes.

Castle laughs at her reaction, a loud, joyous sound that tickles against her lips until she shoves him away from her, claiming his hand so he can't go far.

"Fine, " She huffs, "but that is the one and only time you'll be getting away with that this weekend, Castle."

He grins back like he doesn't believe her and she smiles sweetly, before yanking him off his feet and into the water with her, his girlish squeal the only confirmation Kate needs.

* * *

They walk for a little while, pausing now and then to kiss or look at a bird over head. Castle yelps when he steps back and slips on something, insisting it's alive only to find a rock or some seaweed, a piece of driftwood, anything other than the sea monster he insists on believing it to be.

The water kisses the sand, each rolling wave of white foam just shying away from their feet and Kate watches the ripples of water as they walk, her head on Castle's shoulder and the soft sweep of his fingers a heartfelt metronome that keeps them moving steadily.

She falters in step when something catches her eye.

It sits where the water rushes back, a cloud of sea foam acting as a natural cushion and setting off the color of the shell. Suddenly, for no knowable reason she can think of, she wants it.

Kate releases Castle's hand and she can almost sense the questions before he speaks. She's about to throw him a look and hold up a hand to ask for patience when he stills. His hands drop to his sides and, though he stands behind her, her intrinsic awareness of him kicks in.

She knows he gets it, that he gets she doesn't have an explanation right now, a silent communication passes between them, an ease of being that makes everything simpler.

As they often have before - without words - they come to an understanding.

Kate drops to her knees, denim fast absorbing the sea water and she can feel the cold of the ocean leaching through to her skin. She pays it no attention. The coldness of her body will be Castle's problem later on and she promises herself, his mission will be to find a solution to her chilly predicament.

Hot hands, warm lips, the heat of the shower - maybe spread out before that gorgeous poolside fireplace? All manner of visions pass through her mind, but, as he keeps reminding her - later!

Her fingers dig into the cloying grains of sand, not particularly pleasant as clumps worm their way under her nails, yet Kate relishes the feel of the sand between her fingers, clinging to her hands. She could let herself get so lost in the fantasy of being with Castle at the Hamptons that the feel of squishy, wet sand in her palms is welcome. Grounding. It brings back an element of reality that she sorely needs.

Kate digs further and finds what she first thought was one small shell in actuality quite large and clearly not alone. She seems to have stumbled upon a cluster of varying sizes and shapes, but of the six or so that she's uncovered there is only really one that she wants.

It's soft, pearlescent and pink, fading at the edges and buried a hell of a lot deeper than she first assumed. When her fingers scrape over the sides of another well worn shell she gasps, hisses in pain at the sting that assails her fingertips, the graze of missing skin to her knuckles that burns in the salted sand.

Castle is at her side in a second, tugging her hand up and running the pads of his own fingers over her skin as though soothing her with an invisible balm. Strangely it works. Their eyes meet, a silent question lingering between them and she nods, yes, she's okay, better now at any rate.

The power of his touch seems to draw the sudden sting from her skin and Kate steadies herself on one leg. She sees then that Castle has dropped down next to her in the sand, his own knees soaked right through, nothing but love and concern across his face.

"Better?" He asks, but the lump in her throat rises up from nowhere and is too large to speak around. No words could find their way past it.

"Beckett?" He tries again, but her eyes fall to the shell still buried between them. To the edges worn with time, rubbed flat and smooth by a persistent sea.

The shell - grey turning to pink - curls in on itself but opens up and out at the tips. With swirls and conical patterns both vivid and pale over it's surface, worn well with time - like scars.

She traces a thin line and holds her breath, finds a familiarity in the pattern and Kate touches at it with the tips of her fingers. She lets Castle lay claim to her other hand and keep it for the time being, feeling him still smoothing over her now forgotten injury.

It takes a little digging, Castle's presence and her own determination, but suddenly the shell slides free. A laugh bubbles up from her chest and she rises up with the little treasure still clutched tight in her hand, throwing her arms around his shoulders.

"Kate?" Castle laughs, caught up in her happiness and the smile and the hug and her, everything about her.

"I love you." She says softly, the shell - softened and hardened, scarred, and far too symbolic for what it actually is - clutched tight in her fist.

His eyes are blue, like the ocean, when she says it and his lips the same soft coral color as the seashells that lay scattered around them.

Those blue eyes widen and his lips pop apart in surprise before he smiles and it comes at her again - another wave on a different shore - how much she loves him. How it hurts and aches and terrifies her to let it be known. How it fills her up with absolute joy at the same time. How worth it everything has been for them to be here, together.

It's better than saying it with tears in her eyes in bed their first night together or because she's dying slowly in the grass, bleeding out.

And it's not as if she hasn't said it before - because she has at least a dozen times since they dove into this. It's not that she didn't mean it, didn't understand the depth of her feelings, because she did.

No, it's simply the 'them' of it all. The indefinable, inexplicable wondrous, crazy, silly thing that exists between them. In fact she's starting to wonder if a small part of her has always been in love with this man.

The jackass and the genius, the lover and the lunatic.

Hers.

"I love you too." Castle says with a smile spreading his cheeks wide and darting out over his lips like it's threatening to set up camp there if she doesn't at least try and drive it away with a kiss.

But then he's pushing her to her feet and dropping her hands to cup her cheeks and grinning at her like he read every thought in her head as they traipsed through that archway and his eyes light up mischievously - and god, Castle, not yet!

He laughs with her, at them, intoxicated by how much he loves them both, her the woman in his arms and them, the slightly screwy couple they get to be together, and all of it right there on his face until it's too much.

Too much.

She pushes the shell into his pocket, doesn't tell him she spied at least another dozen further down the beach that she wants, but that can wait until later. Right now, with her hands in his pockets and him holding her face, she just wants another soft, sweet moment to share and Kate kisses him.

Kisses him.

And kisses him.


	4. Epilogue - Bonfire Heart

A/N: Thank you for reading :)

* * *

"People like us—we don't

Need that much, just some-

One that starts,

Starts the spark in our bonfire hearts."

* * *

In their bedroom, with their shells on the wall, the heat of their naked bodies the only fire they really need, they lie in silence, content and at peace with each other. But when Kate chances a glance in his direction he looks smug, satisfied with himself and the way he took her apart, spread out the pieces, taking his time with each one before he brought them back together.

Slowly.

She can't help but want to get him back, gain the upper hand a little and she smiles, throwing a leg out over his waist, swapping their positions.

There are a lot of advantages to gaining the upper hand - mainly his _hands_ as they roam _upwardly_ - and she's gone again in seconds just from the feel of him.

It's hot, fast, sweet and lovely.

"We should go back." She gasps between kisses that set her ablaze, "We never got around to lighting that fire." His fingers surge up her back, down her thighs, in a fiery trail that contradicts her words and she gasps, claiming his lips again.

"We will." He promises, kisses her again and again and again.

"This weekend." She demands, rolling him over and pinning him down at last, just as she had in the Hamptons the first time he took her there.

Castle stares up, lost in the present and the memory of a different flickering fire, but the same beautiful, scantily clad detective surging over him. "_Now_ if you want." His eyes glazing over with each sweep of her hands, every rise and fall of her body.

"This weekend." She husks in the quiet of the their lair, demands again and bites out into his skin. "I'm a little busy right now." She kisses his mouth before he can reply, swallowing down whatever snarky comment that seeks freedom, "Taming the King of the Jungle."


End file.
